


more than enough

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: After you walk for almost a half hour, you stumble on a gas station, and make a beeline for the payphone. You punch in a number that the Winchesters grilled you for hours with one day until you had it memorized.“Yeah?” Dean’s gruff voice, slightly panicked, comes over the line, and you sigh in relief, suddenly feeling exhausted.“Dean.”“Kid? Kid– where the fuck are you?”“I have no idea.” You say, feeling defeated. “I think– I’m at a gas station on some highway.”“You were supposed to go to the Quik Mart, kid, goddamn, we thought you were dead–”OR:A hunt goes bad after you get separated from the Winchesters. Dean tries to keep you safe in the aftermath.





	more than enough

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of two one-word prompt fics I wrote for my recent follower celebration! Anon’s prompt was “comfort” and y'all know I’m a sucker for protective!Dean. Canonical descriptions of violence, mild smut, language, descriptions of nightmare-induced panic attacks.

You’ve been separated from the Winchesters for three days. It didn’t happen on purpose - a demon hunt went bad, and you had to get the hell out of dodge before you were dead, basically.

You didn’t count on one of the demons hunting you down and knocking you out before you could get to a safe place, however. After an entire day and a half of trying and failing to escape, you finally made it out.

Now you’re in the middle of nowhere with no phone, and only your knife and gun to keep you company. You feel stupid. You should have insisted that you stay with Sam and Dean, but they wouldn’t hear it, making you swear up and down that you would get out of there if things went south.

All you can think about is that they’re either dead, or halfway there, and you’re not so good yourself. Before you got out of there, you took a pretty good beating, and you know you need help soon. You’ve tried praying to Cas, but so far… nothing.

You can only hope that Sam and Dean managed to get out of the abandoned barn you cornered the demons in, and that somehow they’re out there, looking for you. _Dammit_ , you think, _why didn’t they go to the meeting place?_

After you walk for almost a half hour, you stumble on a gas station, and make a beeline for the payphone. You punch in a number that the Winchesters grilled you for hours with one day until you had it memorized. 

“Yeah?” Dean’s gruff voice, slightly panicked, comes over the line, and you sigh in relief, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Dean.” 

“Kid? Kid– where the fuck are you?” 

“I have no idea.” You say, feeling defeated. “I think– I’m at a gas station on some highway.” 

“You were supposed to go to the _Quik Mart_ , kid, goddamn, we thought you were dead–”

“You said to meet at the auto body shop on route 4, except, you know, the whole kidnapping thing made it so I don’t really know where I _am_.” 

Dean sighs and you can just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look– are you okay? What– what _happened_?” 

He sounds– he sounds _so_ freaked out. It causes something to clench in your chest, and you have to take a few deep breaths to center yourself. You will _not_ panic. 

“I ran. You _told me_ to run.” 

“I know I _told_ you to. But it’s been three days, and when you didn’t show at the meeting point, we had no idea if you were even–”

“ _Dean.”_ You say, firmly, getting his attention. “A little help?” 

“Are you hurt?” He asks again, his voice deep and dangerous.

“I’m– yeah, Dean. I mean, not life threatening. But I definitely need stitches, and I don’t know how bad my face is. Can’t really see out of my left eye.”

“We’re coming for you, okay? Just– describe what you see.”

You give Dean a vague description, wondering how the hell they’re going to get to you when you couldn’t even name the highway you’re standing next to. 

You lurk around inside the Gas ‘N Go for an hour before you hear the engine gunning into the parking lot, and you’re out the door before it comes to a full stop.

Sam and Dean get out quickly, and Sam gets to you first, his eyes dark with concern as he takes in the way you know you must look. 

“Jesus Christ.” Dean says, when he gets closer. “Did you even try to stitch yourself up?”

“With what? I can hardly _see_.” 

Dean switches tactics then, pulling you into his arms so quickly that you make a little yelping noise in surprise. He holds you close for long enough for you to feel his heart racing, and then lets go, looking you over. “Come on, let’s get back to the Bunker.” His voice is gruff, and he avoids your eyes.

They fill you in on the way back - they thought they were outnumbered, but Cas showed up right in the nick of time. They tried to catch up with you, but apparently the three of you couldn’t remember the meet-up point

You can tell Dean’s beating himself up. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes since they picked you up, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not a basilisk, you know?” You say, and Sam snorts.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Dean asks, voice sharp.

“It’s not going to kill you to look me in the eye.” You explain, and he rolls his eyes.

“Harry Potter, really?”

“You get my point.” You brace yourself on the back of the bench seat, leaning over. “You haven’t said a word since you came to get me.”

Dean fidgets. “Yeah, well. You should save your strength.”

“That’s bullshit.” You tell him, fierce. “I swear, Dean, if you add this to the list of things you hate yourself for, I’m going to kick your ass.” You glare at him, and then regret your little tirade, because your ribs are _killing you_.

He must notice you flinch, because his entire face softens. You think he presses down on the gas pedal just a bit harder, too.

You get back to the bunker in record time, and Sam helps you out of the car when you get into the garage. They both fuss over you for a little while - Sam stitches you up the best he can while Dean gets something for you to put over your eye to take the swelling down.

Eventually you bat their hands away, grumbling about taking a shower. You feel like you haven’t been clean in a hundred years. Dean insists on sitting outside in case you’ve got a concussion.

“Just in case you crack your head open, or something.”

“You mean more than it already is?” You joke, but you stop when you see him go pale. “Sorry. Not funny.”

Dean swallows hard. “You were gone for three days, kid. Three _days_.” Dean looks down at his feet. “If anything happened to you, I would have–”

“ _Dean_.” You say firmly. “I can handle myself. It was nothing you guys haven’t prepared me for! It wasn’t your fault.” 

He just looks at you, that sad, distressed look that he gets when things don’t go as planned. “You shouldn’t have been alone. That was a stupid plan.”

You smile softly at him. “Dean… I _wasn’t_ alone.” 

He frowns. “Excuse me?”

“As soon as I found a phone, I called you because I knew you guys would drop everything and come to get me.” You fidget, picking at your nails. “My whole life, I’ve done everything by myself. So you need to stop apologizing, because I felt safe even when you weren’t right there to rescue me, or whatever outdated idea you’ve got in your head.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and when he does, his voice is a low rasp. “I’m always going to want to protect you, kid. That’s just who I am. I know I can be– I just don’t have it in me to watch another person I care about bite it because of me.” 

You look at him with a sad smile. “You don’t have to worry about it, Dean. I promise.” 

He mirrors your smile. “Go take a shower, you punk.” He says, nudging your shoulder with his. “Sorry I freaked.”

You know he’s going to wait outside the door no matter what you say, so you try to at least speed up your routine, although it’s difficult as you try to avoid any fresh stitches. When you finish up, he knocks.

“You okay?”

You put one hand on the counter by the sink to steady yourself. “Fine.” You frown, embarrassed. “I– Dean?”

The door opens just a crack. “You need me?” He asks, and it’s so soft, so genuine, you kind of hate yourself for wanting to hear those words come from him in a different context.

“I feel a little dizzy.” You tell him, deciding he’s already seen you at your worst.

He peeks in, and swallows when he sees you in just a short, fluffy robe. “Concussion?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. No headache or anything. I’m not seeing double. I just– I think I’m dehydrated, and I haven’t slept.”

“Okay.” Dean says, seemingly making up his mind about something. “Brace yourself.” He says before he bends his knees slightly, his arms going under your knees and around your back as he lifts you off the ground.

“What–”

“You’re going to bed. I’m not going to stand here and watch you stumble down the hallway.”

“Dean–”

“ _Kid_. Just–” he huffs, frustrated. “Just let me do this.” His eyes are dark, almost pleading with you, so you decide to give in, for once.

He carries you down the hallway to your room and sets you down gently on the bed when he gets you inside. “Still dizzy?”

“A little.”

He urges you to lie down, and sits on the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on the bruising on your legs and arms. “I’m sorry, kid. We never should have split.”

You shrug. “It was a good plan. We just fucked up the ending part.” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes.

“How’d you get out of there, anyway?”

You tell him about the three demons who managed to catch up with you after you took off at Sam and Dean’s urging, and how you had to fight them off for a few days as they kept trying to catch up with you. When they managed to knock you out, you waited until they went on some recon mission before getting yourself out of the ropes they tied you up with.

Dean’s eyes flicker to your red wrists, and to your black eye. “We’ll get the meeting point right next time,” He promises, and you smile. 

“I know. Now get out of here; I’m tired.” 

.

.

You wake up three hours later, your chest heaving so hard you can barely breathe. Somehow your blankets are kicked onto the floor and you try to remember what you were dreaming about, but all you can think about is being tied up in that shitty, damp basement with some demons waiting to turn you over to Lucifer, or whoever else they’re working for. 

“Christ.” You mutter, trying to suck some air into your lungs. Your ankles and wrists burn where the ropes had been, and your muscles ache.

Suddenly, your door bursts open, and Dean’s there, gun drawn. 

“What the hell?” You pant, still trying to catch your breath.

His eyes are wide as they take you in, the way your hair is sticking to your temples with sweat, and your limbs shake slightly. “You screamed.” He says, and your shoulders droop.

“Sorry. Must’ve been dreaming.”

He’s at your side in an instant when he sees how hard you’re breathing, as if you’ve just run a marathon. “Hey, hey.” His voice is low, soothing. He kneels next to the bed, and you instinctively scoot up to the edge. “You gotta calm down.” 

“Trying.” You grit out, still trying to control your breathing.

“Look at me,” he says, his hand finding your cheek to direct your gaze. “You’re okay; take a deep breath.” 

Dean keeps eye contact with you for a few moments as he helps you regulate your breathing. When you finally feel normal again, you open your eyes and see his much closer than you anticipated, causing your breath to hitch. 

“That’s it,” he’s saying, “You’re alright. Keep breathing. You’re okay.” 

You sit there for a minute, his hand cupping your face, your hand gripping his wrist, the two of you breathing in sync. His eyes haven’t left your face, and when he leans in, you almost laugh at how cliche it all is.

You meet him halfway, your lips parting instantly as he kisses you, something unraveling inside of you as he muffles a groan against your lips. The kiss turns deep right away, and you have to fight off a moan when Dean literally pulls you off the bed and into his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs into your mouth, pulling away from you just for a minute before he drops his forehead to rest in the crook of your neck. 

“How hard are you going to punch me if I tell you I’ve been wanting to do that all night?” He asks, and you grin.

“Are you kidding? I’m covered in bruises and was covered in dirt when you found me.”

He shakes his head, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Doesn’t matter. Pretty much always want to kiss you.” He frowns like he’s remembering something. “Your head okay? I shouldn’t–” He shuts his eyes. “Shit, you just had a panic attack, and here I am attacking you like an asshole.” 

Your hand brushes over the side of his face. “I kissed you back, drama queen.”

When he smiles at you, it’s a slow, beautiful thing. “Yeah. You did.” He leans in again, and presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then your neck. His stubble scratches against you and when you squirm a bit, he laughs lightly. “Hmm.” He hums against you, “Ticklish?”

You scoff as your hands find their way underneath his shirt. He shivers. “You wish, Winchester.”

His mouth finds yours and his hands land on your hips, tugging you closer as he murmurs something against your skin that you don’t catch, though the tone of it has you sure it’s something filthy, and then it’s your turn to shiver.

“How is your skin this soft?” He asks, “This is impossible.” He noses the collar of your shirt aside, his lips ghosting over your shoulder and collarbone.

“It’s called _soap_.” 

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Dean plays along. “ _That’s_ what that is.” 

You help him pull his shirt over his head, and he quiets down once your hands start roving over his chest, his jaw clenching. You eye him knowingly. “No one’s done this for you for awhile, have they.” You say softly. He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “I don’t just mean sex. I mean– took care of you. Made you feel good.”

Dean flushes, but his hands tighten on your hips as he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “I haven’t– not with someone I wanted like this.”

You kiss his cheek and decide to lighten the mood. “Dean… am I taking your meaningful sex virginity?”

His eyes light up as he gapes at you before he laughs, a full laugh that makes him tilt his head back. “ _God_. That’s terrible.”

His gaze is so _fond_ on you, it kind of aches to look at him, so you look away, swallowing hard. You never meant to fall for Dean, you really didn’t. It’s just– he’s so _good_. He doesn’t see it, either, and it kills you, because he deserves to be so, so happy. 

“If you want to go…” You joke, “I’ll just stay here with my black eye and bad jokes.”

“Not a chance.” Dean says, without hesitation, causing your heart to flip. 

He takes your face in his hands then and kisses you, the passion racketing up once more as you shift on his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage as he lifts his hips up to meet yours. 

Dean groans into your mouth and tugs your hair lightly as one hand slides through the strands, and he barely gets a warning out before he’s standing, lifting you back on the bed. 

He stretches out overtop of you, his hand running down your side firmly, blunt nails scratching you lightly, causing you to arch up against him. You hook your leg around his hip and he hums in satisfaction when you grind against him unconsciously.

“That’s it.” He says, almost mindlessly, his eyes dark, but sparkling. He gets your shirt off in the next few seconds, and then it feels like you’re practically ripping each other’s clothes off, your mouths landing on any bare skin they can find.

When he finally pushes into you, you both stare at each other, open-mouthed, until Dean lets out a long, shaky breath. He thrusts again, and again until you’re both seeing stars, and your toes are curling into the soft sheets below you. 

Dean’s murmuring all sorts of dirty things in your ear about how good you feel, how tight and warm you are, how he’s dreamed about this a thousand times. 

When you finally shatter, Dean’s right behind you, keeping his weight off you as best he can, mindful of your sore ribs and scattered bruises.

“Wow.” You say, breathless. 

“Give me ten minutes and we’ll go again.” Dean says, grinning shark-like at you.

“I need to _rest_.” You chide, meaning it as a joke, but his face falls.

“Shit. Kid, I– did I hurt you? God, I didn’t think, I just–”

“Dean, stop.” You say, hand on his chest. “You didn’t hurt me. I just need to catch my breath.” 

Dean looks relieved, but still there’s a shadow of worry on his face. He must believe you, though, because he settles in bed with you, gathering you into his arms until you’re both sighing happily. 

“Kid?”

“Yeah, Dean.”

“Don’t get separated from us again, okay? I couldn’t– if something happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

Your heart flips. It’s not a confession of love, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough. “I won’t, Dean. I’ll be okay.” 

Dean presses a lingering kiss to your temple, and the two of you drift off to a peaceful sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com)


End file.
